CHAPTER

15

BEFORE RIZO COULD STUN HER, Dax whipped up her legs, curled her back, and gave him two heels in the stomach. The Bajoran staggered backward, gasping for breath but trying to aim his phaser. Dax rolled, and the brilliant beam flashed pa.st her shoulder. Before Rizo could steady himself to aim again, she made a dash into the sea of pods and crouched behind them.

She yelled, “Don’t shoot phase/rs in here! You idiot!”

Holding his stomach and gulping with anger, Rizo staggered along the row of antimatter Pods. ‘Tin not the idiot!” he snarled. “You showed me how valuable this antimatter is—as a weapon! I can’t let you take it back!”

“You have to,” she insisted. “You have to end this way of life. What are you going to do with this ship and the antimatter? You’ve seen how it attracts nothing but trouble. Isn’t that what you told me?”

Rizo looked away, anger being replaced by confu-sion and weariness. “What will you do with Petra?”

“I personally will try to help her,” answered the Trill. She rose from her hiding place. “I can’t speak for anyone else, but I’ll do whatever I can. Listen, you cannot try to prove your points with death and destruction anymore. That time is past. Other Bajorans feel much like you, and they speak openly about it. The war for independence is over. You can see from what happened here that it’s not the Federation who’s in control. It’s the Bajorans. They are in control of their own destiny.”

Rizo muttered, “That ship they are building—it should be for Bajor.”

“Perhaps the next one will be for Bajor,” said Dax. “The shipyards are up and working. Perhaps the next shipment of antimatter will be for a Bajoran ship, the first one built in generations. Come back with us and see that happen.”

Rizo scoffed, “I‘11 be in a cell.”

“Voices from cells have been heard before,” said the lieutenant. Her comm badge beeped, and she answered it. “Dax here.”

“You said you were coming right up,” Odo said with concern. “Is everything all right?”

Dax looked expectantly at Rizo, and he lowered the phaser. “Yes,” she nodded, “I was just having a discussion with our prisoner. It will take me a minute to escort him back to the cargo bay. Is our course locked in for the wormhole?”

“Locked in,” said Odo. “Estimated arrival at the wormhole in thirty-two minutes. We will probably overtake Commander Sisko before then.”

“Give hima report,” said Dax. She looked at Rizo. “And tell him our prisoner distinguished himself under fire.”

“I’m glad I was wrong,” admitted the shapeshifter. “Out.”

She strode up to Rizo, and the hulking Bajoran let out a long sigh as he dropped the phaser into her hand.

“Have any more of these hidden around?” she asked.

“No,” he murmured, “that was the only one.” He gave her a wry smile. “Don’t take this wrong, Lieutenant, but you’re the first woman I’ve admired in a long time. Since Petra’s mother.”

Dax shook her head sadly. “I wish your lives had been different. As I said, I have no basis to imagine what you went through.”

He shrugged his big shoulders. “It’s over now. I knew this would be the end—one way or another.”

Captain Jon Rachman lifted his glass of synthehol and said suavely, “I’m having a wonderful time.”

Major Kira Nerys looked at a chronometer and grumbled, “I’m not.”

“Relax,” he told her. “They’ll let you know if something happens. You’re a minute away from the bridge, and I’m a minute away from my ship. If duty calls, we’ll answer. Meanwhile, relax.”

Kira tried to slump back in her chair and relax, but her shoulder blades refused to loosen up. She rubbed them against the back of the chair, trying to make them relax. She finally had to admit that she didn’t want to sit back, so she sat forward and tried to relax.

“Couldn’t you have picked some other time to ask me for a date?” she muttered. She glanced around Quark’s Place with mild disgust.

“I’m sorry that your people are still missing,” said Rachman soberly. “But after they come back, I’ll be leaving. If not sooner. So you see, Major, this is the only time. There are a lot of poets who think the present should be lived as if it were the last moment of creation.”

“Are there?” asked Kira mockingly. Grudgingly, she took a sip of her fruit punch. “I’m truly not averse to you as a person, Captain Rachman—” “Jon, please.” He smiled.

“But I can’t think about, er, what you would like me to think about at the moment.”

“What exactly would I like you to think about?” asked Jon Rachman, resting his chiseled chin in his hand and leaning forward.

Kira shifted in her chair and finally met his stare head-on. “You would love to seduce me.”

Rachman looked thoughtful. “Actually I would prefer that you seduce me. But for the moment, I’m content to just get to know you. What do you want out of life?”

“Bajor,” she answered immediately. “I want our homeworld to be free and secure and on her way to prosperity. Then maybe we can pay back the people who have helped us.”

Rachman shook his head in amazement. “When I first read the report on Deep Space Nine, I couldn’t understand what we were doing here.”

Kira bristled, and her dark eyes flashed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” added the young captain, “I didn’t object to being here. It’s just unusual for the Federation to have coadministration of a space station with another party. Now that I’ve gotten to know you and your people, I can see how both sides needed this arrangement—to form a bond of mutual trust. I really admire what you’re doing here. I mean that sincerely.”

Kira took his hand and gave him a warm smile. Her shoulders suddenly felt very relaxed. “Thanks. I know how much the Federation has risked for us, and I’m grateful. I’m sure we can coexist.”

Rachman laid his other hand on top of hers. “We can test that theory in a sort of microcosm. Just two people, say, on a long weekend down to Bajor—”

The major’s comm badge beeped, and she shrugged an apology as she tapped it. “Kira.”

O’Brien’s voice had none of its usual playfulness. “Major, the neutrino level from the wormhole is very high. Something is coming through. Perhaps more than one ship.”

She jumped up. “Any other unusual readings?”

“Other?” asked O’Brien. Then it dawned on him. “You don’t think those Klingon ships went away?”

“They could be close enough to monitor the wormhole,” answered Kira, already dashing toward the door. “Scan for all anomalies. I’m on my way!”

Captain Rachman rushed after her, but he turned the other way on the Promenade. “The Regal is ready,” he assured her.

Kira paused on her way to the turbolift and gave the captain a glancing smile. “Maybe we’ll have something to celebrate.”

Quark ran after them both, shouting, “Who’s going to pay this bill?”

When both the captain and the major ignored him and dashed out of sight, the Ferengi saloonkeeper stroked his earlobe and smiled. He could smell money changing hands, very soon now. Then he frowned. Which way would the money be going?

“Please be alive, Commander Sisko,” whispered Quark earnestly. “Please come back… alive.”

Chief O’Brien frowned at the shifting readouts on the Ops table. Where was Dax? he wondered; she would be able to make sense of these mysterious fluctuations. Then he remembered where Dax was, and that he’d gone too many bloody hours without sleep.

He gazed up at the main viewer and the endless expanse of stars, expecting any moment for the wormhole to erupt in an orgasm of swirling colors. Suddenly it did, swirling outward like a giant rainbow turned inside out. He momentarily forgot about the unusual readings in the vicinity and stared at the screen, as did everyone else on the bridge. He heard the turbolift doors swish open as the first ship emerged from the wormhole.

“The tanker!” he shouted.

Kira rushed through Operations, pointing to the communications off~cer. “Hail them!” she ordered.

“There’s a second ship!” shouted O’Brien. He pointed at the viewscreen, although it was hardly necessary. All eyes were riveted upon it. A smaller vessel was suddenly spit out, and the wormhole vanished.

“The runabout!” gasped Kira.

“Damn,” muttered O’Brien, slamming his fist on the operations table. “Two Klingon Birds-of-Prey uncloaking at fifteen thousand kilometers!”

On the viewscreen, two vulturelike warships shimmered into view.

“The tanker does not respond,” said the communications officer, “but the Klingons are hailing us.”

“On screen,” snapped Kira. “What business do you have here—” She started to say more, but she was stopped by the sight of a young Bajoran man smiling at her from the screen.

“Prepare to die,” said the Bajoran. “We have had enough of Cardassian space stations and Federation meddling. With the help of our Klingon friends, we will put an end to all of it now. That includes the wormhole.”

The screen went blank, and Kira and O’Brien stared at each other. The chief was almost afraid to look at his instruments, for fear of what he would find. When he did, his worst fears were realized.

“They’re dropping their shields,” he breathed. “Powering up phasers. The tanker is headed straight toward them!”

“Where’s the runabout?” asked Kira.

“It’s headed for the docking ring,” reported O’Brien. “But if those crazy Klingons do what I think they’re going to do, we’ll all be chipped beef on toast!”

“They won’t blow themselves up,” said Kira hopefully.

“They’re far enough away to avoid the worst of it,” answered O’Brien. “But we’re not.” “Hail them!” ordered Kira.

The communications officer shook his head. “They’re not responding.”

O’Brien took a gulp of air and changed the setting on the main viewer to show the Klingon warships. There were gasps all around as they unleashed a broad band of phaser fire. He changed the view to show the tanker, streaking to its doom in total oblivion.

“Brace yourselves!” yelled O’Brien.

An explosion ruptured the starscape, but it wasn’t the cataclysmic end of the world that O’Brien expected. It was just your normal starship being blown to smithereens, a sight he had witnessed too many times in his long career with Starfleet. The station didn’t even tremble.

“Where’s the antimatter?” asked Kira in amazement.

O’Brien shrugged, but a smile began to creep across his ruddy face. “If it ain’t there, it must be someplace else.”

The communications panel beeped, and Kira answered, “Ops.”

“Major, this is Ensign Pertwee at docking port three. I just want to report that the Mekong is docked and Commander Sisko, Lieutenant Dax, and Chief Odo are safe.”

Kira looked at O’Brien and puffed up her chest, before expelling a long sigh.

Ensign Pertwee continued, “But the runabout is packed to the gills with antimatter pods, and we’re not sure how to handle them. Could you spare us Chief O’Brien?”

“He’s on his way,” answered Kira. And he was, with a big grin on his face.

The major would have liked to savor the moment, but there were still two Klingon Birds-of-Prey within striking distance—and they had just been cheated out of their big kill.

She hit her comm badge. “Ops to Captain Rachman. There are two Klingon ships in the area. Be careful, but get rid of them.”

“Aye, sir,” the captain answered crisply. “Leaving spacedock.”

Kira took over control of the Operations table, and she changed the angle on the main viewer to watch the Regal pull away from the station. The cruiser went quickly to full impulse and bore down on the Klingon warships. They hadn’t come any closer, but they weren’t backing off either. Kira widened the view to include all three ships, and she held her breath, knowing that Rachman had a skeleton crew and a dysfunctional ship. Yet he plowed straight toward them, as if he could wipe them out with a snap of his fingers.

She monitored communications frequencies, but there were no transmissions. The Regal was acting like the bouncer in an Orion nightclub, throwing out a couple of unruly bullies. It muscled closer and closer to them—five thousand kilometers, four, three…

Finally, the Klingon ships blinked. They made graceful pirouettes in space and were already going into warp drive when the Regal reached their former position and stopped.

With relief in his voice, the communications officer announced, “Captain Rachman reports that the area is secure. He requests permission to return to Deep Space Nine.”

Kira finally took a breath and permitted herself a wide grin. “Yes,” she agreed. “Let’s get everybody home.”